


An Invitation

by With_the_Wolves



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Crushes, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Neurodivergent Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Pre-Canon, and the dumb things you do because of them, fake statements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29234238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/With_the_Wolves/pseuds/With_the_Wolves
Summary: How do you get Jonathan Sims to go on a date with you? Easy. Step one: Trick him by giving him a fake statement filled with puzzles that lead him to the date location of your choice. Step two: Profit?
Relationships: Sasha James/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 13
Kudos: 35





	An Invitation

“Jon,” Sasha says, leaning against his desk.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t look up from his work.

“D’you want to get lunch with me today?” she asks. It’s just a casual question. They’ve gotten lunch together before, and she knows that Jon won’t interpret her question in a romantic way, but her stomach still thrums with nervousness. It’s… different, now that she’s decided to let herself have a crush on him. Now that she’s decided that, eventually, she’ll ask him on a real date.

He doesn’t even look at her, just shakes his head. “Can’t, I’m a bit swamped this week. I’ve got a lot of—things…” he trails off, drawn back into his work. The exciting world of follow-up research. She stands there for another minute, just watching him, knowing that he has forgotten her entirely. It’s one of those things that should be annoying, but is really just… deeply endearing. Ugh.

She’s going to ask him on that date soon.

***

When she asks Jon out, she tries to be obvious about it. Jon has a hard time reading social signals at the best of times, and she wants to make things easy for him. She’s not the most comfortable with grand gestures, but she’s got a bit theater kid in her yet, and she’s sure she can make it work.

She finds Jon in the break room, eating a bowl of microwavable soup and staring blankly at nothing. Very adorable. She knocks twice on the table, getting his attention, and he blinks once and smiles at her.

“Jon, there’s something I want to ask you,” she says. She can feel heat rising in her face. God, this is about to be embarrassing. She really, really hopes he doesn’t turn her down. ( _Why would he turn you down, James? You’re a catch._ )

She gets on one knee, takes his hand. “Jonathan Sims,” she says dramatically. “Would you do me the honor of coming to dinner with me on Friday?”

He looks at her, and his eyebrows furrow. “Sorry Sasha,” he says, “but I can’t. I requested some books, and they’re supposed to arrive Friday. I was planning to get started on them Friday evening.”

She sighs. She’d take it as a graceful rejection, if she hadn’t seen Jon reject people before. He got nervous and stuttery and hyper-apologetic. He doesn’t look at all uncomfortable now, just confused as to why she’s on the floor.

He doesn’t know that she’s trying to ask him on a date.

Later, replaying the scene in her mind, she realizes what the problem was. They were at work. Even with her making it as dramatic as possible, the environment was too casual. She asked him to do platonic activities with her all the time while they were at work—why would he assume differently?

She needs to ask him when they aren’t at the Institute, somewhere where she can make a whole presentation of it. She’ll buy him flowers, sweep him off his feet.

Except.

He keeps turning down her offers to spend time together. When he isn’t busy with follow-up, he’s busy researching the Leitner books. It’s… stupidly endearing. And unhealthy. Jon doesn’t look unwell, really, but he does look… stressed, hunched over his desk all day. Jon needs a break from work, not just so she can ask him on a date, but also so he doesn’t drive himself into a nervous breakdown.

Sasha hatches a plan.

***

It doesn’t take long to put together. Just an evening, researching cryptic puzzles, scouting out locations that aren’t too far from the Institute, writing a nonsensical statement in the ‘I saw a ghost in a graveyard and it was spooky’ vein.

The only problem is how to get the fake statement into Jon’s caseload without him noticing. She can’t just drop it on his desk, not with him there _all_ day long. She could get Lydia involved, but she isn’t sure the Head of Research would approve of her plan, and even if she did, Lydia is a _bad_ liar. Jon would know something was up.

In the end, Jon solves the problem for her. He leans back in his chair, hisses over to her, “Sasha! Swap with me?”

“Spiders?” she asks, and he winces, nods. She holds out her hand, and flicks through the offending file. It has all the hallmarks of a false statement, but—

_“I felt thousands of legs swarming over me, filling up my mouth, my nose—”_

She snaps the folder shut, wrinkling her nose. “No problem,” she says. She hands Jon the fake statement. “You can take this one, I haven’t gotten started on it yet.”

“Thanks,” he says, smiling. Her stomach flips, and she watches for a few moments longer as he gets to work.

***

It would be suspicious for her to be staring at Jon the entire time he’s working on the statement, so instead she just glances over every once in a while, making sure he doesn’t immediately drop the statement in the ‘discredited’ pile.

He doesn’t. Instead, his frown deepens as he’s drawn in, trying to figure out the puzzle she’s left for him. The statement is clearly fake, but a few of the words are—wrong. Nonsensical. Gibberish.

She sees Jon go over and over the text, marking every strange word. Then he picks up his phone, dials the number listed on the statement. It’s a disconnected number, and Jon’s frown deepens.

He thinks for a few seconds, tapping his fingers on his desk. Then he pulls out a notepad, begins writing on it, consulting the statement to transcribe the strange words exactly.

At that point, Sasha knows she has him. Jon loves puzzles, and now that he knows there’s a puzzle to solve in the statement, he’s not going to stop until he figures it out.

It’s a simple Caesar cipher, with the phone number as its key. It yields the message:

_Here are the coordinates:_

_CH.HCGDHCGFYERE, -HB.KGICCECIF0WI_

In order to crack the coordinates, Jon simply has to replace each letter with its numerical position in the alphabet. Jon is smart, he’ll figure it out. The coordinates belong to a cryptid-themed restaurant in America called the Moth Man Urban Legends Bar and Grille.

Once, the Moth Man Urban Legends Bar and Grill website landing page contained several blurry photos of “Moth Man,” along with a somehow even blurrier photo of a restaurant menu. Now, it’s a nightmarish jumble of the strangest stock photos Sasha could find, along with a single hyperlink that just says, “Click me!”

(Sasha included this step because she finds it deeply entertaining to watch Jon click on the shadiest links possible. It’s revenge for all the viruses she’s had to clean off his computer.)

The link leads to a much more tasteful webpage. It’s has a single picture of a rose on it, and below that it just says, “An Invitation”. Then it gives the address of a very cute little cafe just a short walk from the Institute. Beneath that, “Tonight. 7:00pm.”

It takes about an hour for Jon to figure out the Caesar cipher, and after that he works through the puzzle quickly. It’s a delight, watching his face when he sees “Moth Man Urban Legends Bar and Grille,” and even better when he sees the monstrosity she’s made of their website.

He clicks the link without even a second of hesitation, which almost makes Sasha laugh out loud. And then he’s just staring at the invitation. He opens a new tab, opens Google Maps, puts in the address. She sees the back-in-forth in his head—‘Tonight’ has probably long since passed, and he isn’t likely to find anything if he shows up at the cafe at 7:00pm tonight.

But Jon is stubborn, and if he doesn’t go ‘Tonight,’ it’ll eat at him. She’s trapped him. He’ll show up. She’s certain of it.

***

She debates for a long time if she should wear a dress, or a button-up shirt and tie. She decides on the tie. It has ferns on it, and she needs the calming vibes.

It’s starting to sink in, what she’s done.

Why didn’t she just say, “Jon, I am asking you on a date”? That would have been so much easier! Christ, she’s tricked her crush into going on a date with her. What kind of creep does that?

She’s terrified Jon will be angry with her. Or worse, hurt. This whole thing _is_ technically a prank. What if Jon thinks she’s just… making fun of him?

She stops by a flower shop on her way there, and the shop assistant asks what she needs, and she’s so nervous by then that she actually says, “I tricked my friend into going on a date with me, and I need flowers that will prevent him from hating me forever.”

“Right,” the man says, uncertainly. “Well—” And then he makes Sasha a very, very nice arrangement because, unlike Sasha, he isn’t a complete mess.

Sasha arrives at the cafe thirty minutes early, because she _knows_ Jon. She knows he’ll want to stake out the place ahead of time. She knows she has to arrive ridiculously early to beat him there.

But apparently, she’s underestimated him because he’s _already there_.

He’s seated at a table in the corner, where he can see the entire dining room. He’s still wearing his clothes from work, and there’s a pastry in front of him.

He’s watching the door, of course he is, so he sees her come in.

“Sasha!” he calls, waving wildly at her. It makes something pang in her chest, that Jon’s instinct upon seeing her in a public place is to excitedly greet her. She certainly isn’t that kind of person.

She smiles, walks over to him. Her fingers are curled tightly around the flowers, crinkling the paper just slightly.

“Do you have a date tonight?” he asks, looking her over, his eyes still flicking back and forth between her and the door.

“I hope so,” she says.

He frowns. “Are they late? Or—”

She hands him the flowers. “These are for you.”

He looks at them, bewildered, then back at Sasha. “What—”

“The invitation was from me,” Sasha says, sitting down across from him. “I faked the statement, and I made the puzzles.”

He stares at her for moment, then at the flowers, then back at her. She waits for him to yell at her, or run off, or—she doesn’t know.

Then he starts laughing. It’s—wonderful, when he laughs. He always tries to hide his face, and this time he decides to use the flowers for that purpose, stifling his giggles against the petals. “Sasha, I—I thought it was going to be the, the Mob, or something.”

Sasha can’t help but start laughing too. “You thought the Mob sent secret messages to each other using a Caesar cipher?”

“I don’t know!” Jon says. “This is—” He lets out a long breath. “Well, I did enjoy the—game, I suppose.”

They look at each other for a long moment.

“Wait,” Jon says. “So _I’m_ your date?”

“If you want to be,” Sasha says.

Jon smiles. “I—” He laughs again. “Yes. Of course I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> @suttttton on tumblr!


End file.
